Mental Torture

Catching the colours as they fade to black,I want to melt with them,but they only push me back,I wish they could accept me,I hate the taste of pain,I’ve already had a lifetime,I hardly feel the strain.

My heart has left for good,I begged for it’s return,I hate picking at this wound,at the tail ends of flesh I burn.

If I could blame it, I would,but that finger won’t leave my eye,screaming in my face,Its all “I” “eye” “I”.

I hate to be the one to moan,so I sewed my mouthy lips,imagine listening to yourself,taking one and two word fits.

I sit the empty puppet,and carve the eyes and smiley face,I wait to hear a scream,in these actions I could trace.

I seem to have been here before,I know it wasn’t after,this dryness of the bones,and his stupid manic laughter.

I hate these fingers down the face,these scartching chewed up ends,I asked for them removed,from my crazy injecting friends.

I like to keep my eyes,settled on that glass,I’m sure I’ll move to that next scene,when my keepers share the pass.

I can never know whats happening,or when this found a start,I wish to snap the viens,and give back the stolen parts.

It’s fine, I’ll stay right here,really wanting out,slicing at this hacked up flesh,inside I scream and shout…..